


the yellow moon glowed bright

by norgaard



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, i can't NOT write them cuddling help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgaard/pseuds/norgaard
Summary: "And so while the rest of the school hunkered down with blankets and Netflix and alcohol, Adam stuffed a bag and sped the shitbox down the back roads to the Barns."in which adam and ronan take shelter from the cold.





	the yellow moon glowed bright

**Author's Note:**

> title from "blue ridge mountains" by fleet foxes

“Hurry up, it’s fucking freezing. Christ.”

Ronan’s silhouette beckons from the threshold of the farmhouse, illuminated by the warm light streaming from the inside of the house. Adam figures he could just not stand there with the door wide open with temperatures in the single digits and dropping, but it’s Ronan. Hell would freeze over before he missed a chance to welcome Adam home.

Actually, hell probably is freezing over. And here he is, a god in wool socks, waiting for him.

Adam hoists his duffel bag onto one shoulder and his backpack onto the other, slams the shitbox shut with a hip, locks it, locks it again, even though it’s two in the morning and no one is around for miles. His feet crunch on the gravel and then on the rock salt Ronan’s sprinkled on the steps of the porch, and then he’s hugging Ronan and walking the both of them back into the house because fuck, he was right, it’s so goddamn cold.

Adam shuts the door with his foot, unwilling to move his still-gloved hand from where it’s cradling the back of Ronan’s skull.

He sighs and feels his shoulders drop. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I missed you.”

Ronan runs his hands up the back of Adam’s puffy winter coat. “Same.”

Adam turns his head just so and presses his cold nose to the sensitive skin below Ronan’s ear.

“Jesus, Parrish!"

Adam laughs. “Sorry, sorry.” He removes his glove and presses a hand to his face, warming it up, before pulling Ronan back to him and kissing the same spot in apology.

“You’re still fucking freezing." Ronan betrays his words by turning, searching, and Adam meets him halfway and captures his lips with his.

“So warm me up,” Adam says between kisses, and Ronan snorts. He pulls away, and they smile goofily at each other for a second, before Ronan bends to pick up Adam’s bag and makes for the stairs.

“Dinner’s on the stove. I’ll be down in a second. Opal’s already asleep.”

Adam unlaces his clunky boots and wanders over to the kitchen, where he’s hit with the smell of garlic and onions and spices. Even after a mere few weeks of shitty dining hall food, this is heaven.

Class had been cancelled for that Friday on account of the cold - a rarity up in Boston, where Adam’s classmates regarded winter with such indifference that they drank iced coffee in the dead of January. But with temperatures in the negatives and public transportation holding on by a thread, the administration seemed to have collectively said “fuck it” and shuttered its doors, tacking another day onto the long weekend. And so while the rest of the school hunkered down with blankets and Netflix and alcohol, Adam stuffed a bag and sped the shitbox down the back roads to the Barns.

Ronan finds him hunched over the stove, his hands held over the leftover stew simmering there as if it were a bonfire.

“It still needs a few more minutes to heat up.” He wraps his arms around Adam’s waist and hooks a chin over his shoulder. His breath is warm.

“I wonder what we can do with a few minutes.” Adam rests his hands on Ronan’s over his hips and tilts his head: an invitation.

Ronan hums, low in his throat. “You sly fucker.”

He leaves languorous open mouthed kisses along Adam’s neck. They stay like that until the stew nearly boils over.

After three helpings, they creep up the stairs, careful so as not to wake Opal. Adam’s too tired to do anything but strip and curl under the covers, making room for Ronan to mirror their earlier positions, and he drops into sleep with him nestled tight along the curve of his spine.

\--

Early the next morning, Adam’s woken briefly by the run of Ronan’s fingers through his hair as he leaves to tend to the cows or chickens or whatever. He tries to tell him to stay, but manages only a plaintive groan. Ronan laughs, throws another blanket over him, and then he’s asleep again in the grey dawn light.

He wakes again when Ronan returns. Ronan tries to be quiet, but he’s never been very good at making himself smaller. He swears up a small storm when his sweatshirt gets tangled up in his shirt and nearly stumbles on taking off the woolen socks Blue got him for Christmas two years ago. It’s only when he gets down to his boxer briefs that he looks up, catching Adam’s gaze from where he’s burrowed in the duvet.

“Enjoying the show?”

“Mmmmmhm.” Adam’s eyes follow Ronan as he approaches the bed, slow, predatory, until he’s standing at the edge, looking down at him with a glint in his eyes.

Adam realizes what’s about to happen a half second before it does.

Ronan grabs the edge of the covers and rips them off, leaving Adam exposed to the cold air in nothing but his boxers.

“Fuck! Ronan!” Adam lunges for the covers, but Ronan’s thrown them to the ground, and before he can get up Ronan pins him to the bed, and then they’re mock-wrestling in swears and peals of laughter.

Adam pins him to the mattress. In one breath, they’re laying there, Adam’s weight on Ronan’s wrists, and in the next, Ronan surges up to meet Adam halfway and they’re kissing, and God, Adam missed this. Ronan slides his tongue along Adam’s, dirty and suddenly desperate, and Adam moans from somewhere tight in his chest.

He lifts a hand from where he’s holding Ronan down to cup his face, sweeping fingers along a cheekbone, the sweetness a sharp contrast to their hunger. Adam slips his thumb alongside his tongue in Ronan’s open mouth and sees his eyes flutter open and shut. He pulls back a little and replaces his thumb with two fingers. Ronan takes them into his mouth, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Adam lets Ronan suck on his fingers for a few moments, enjoying the closeness, the soft movements of Ronan’s tongue, before he withdraws his fingers with a filthy sound, and then they’re kissing again. With a hungry noise, Ronan rolls them so they’re on their sides, curled around one another like two closed parentheses. Adam trails his fingers, still wet, down his spine, so they just barely poke under his waistband and between his cheeks.

“Do you want it?” Adam’s lips brush against Ronan’s as he speaks, their breaths mingling together.

Ronan tucks his head into Adam’s neck, scrapes his teeth over the skin there, nods. “Please.”

He knows Ronan likes it when he strips him, so he obliges, hooking his thumbs and pulling his briefs slowly down his thighs until Ronan becomes frustrated and kicks them off himself.

Adam leans over to the nightstand and rummages around for the lube he knows is there from the last days of his winter break, when Ronan had been overwhelmed with neediness and opened him up and clung to him and fucked him slow. When he turns back to Ronan, he’s on his back again, squirming, staring, want writ large. 

“Fuck,” Adam says, and presses his body against his and kisses him, deep and brief, before slicking up his fingers and reaching down to where he needs him.

Ronan drops a leg over Adam's shoulder as he bends to brush a brief kiss to the the tip of his cock. He whines at the first touch of his finger.

“You good?” Adam looks up to meet Ronan’s eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ronan huffs out a breath. “Get in me.”

It goes quickly, too quickly. They’re both desperate for it. Adam just wants Ronan to feel good, all the time, just wants to make him happy. He’s only got two fingers in him and is just establishing a steady, slow rhythm when Ronan begins to thrust quicker, harder onto his fingers, and Adam swears and tries to keep up, and in a rush of breathy moans, Ronan comes.

He lays there, catching his breath, as Adam removes his fingers and wipes them on the sheets, before bending to lick a stripe of cum off his belly.

“Oh, God.” Ronan hauls him up and shoves his tongue in Adam’s mouth. “You’re so -” he flips them over and sucks above the hollow of Adam’s collarbone as he slides his hands up Adam’s sides and tweaks his nipples with his thumbs, drawing a moan out of him. “God -” Adam doesn’t think he’s even aware that he’s speaking. “Just let me -” and then his hands are suddenly at Adam’s boxers, pulling them down so he can take him in his mouth.

“Fuck.” Adam rests his hand on the back of Ronan’s skull, not pushing, not guiding, just grounding himself. Ronan pulls off and tongues lightly at the head, little kitten licks and kisses, and then he’s taking him in again, deep in his throat. Adam realizes his hips are stirring rhythmically and stills, but Ronan just - looks at him, all heavy and wanting. He grabs the curve of Adam’s ass and guides him through a couple of thrusts into his waiting mouth until Adam picks the rhythm up on his own. It’s only a few minutes when thinks he curses or groans or something and his hips twitch and he comes and Ronan swallows it all down.

Ronan climbs his way back up to Adam and kisses him again, licking his bottom lip.

Adam tastes himself and sighs. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you, too.” Ronan shifts off to the side a bit and hitches a leg up over Adam’s. They lay there, enjoying the stillness, aside for Adam’s hands running gently over Ronan’s back.

\--

After they’ve cleaned up and showered and fooled around again in said shower, Ronan throws together some runny eggs and blood sausages while Adam curls around a cup of steaming coffee. Ronan pretends he just happened to have the sausages, which are clearly fresh, on hand, and Adam plays along. Opal appears by their side at some point, and Adam bursts into laughter at the sight of her popping an entire egg into her mouth, shell and all.

He knows he should spend more time this weekend studying, that he’s got an exam coming up that Tuesday because his thermodynamics professor is, evidently, a sadist. But the cold has driven Ronan inside, for the most part, away from the work to be done on the Barns and to Adam’s side, where the mere fact of his existence is distracting. Even when he’s curled up with his nose stuck in his textbook, Adam can’t help but let his gaze drift over to the other side of the sofa, where Ronan lays, typing at something on his laptop, headphones on, content to just exist in the same space. He must feel the weight of Adam’s gaze, because he tells him at some point, without looking up, to “do your fucking work, Parrish,” with a pointed poke in the thigh with his foot.

Adam smiles, and does.

They spend most of the weekend this way, occupying various spaces around the home, usually covered in blankets, almost always touching in some way. The theme song to Planet Earth echoes throughout the house every hour or so as Opal works her way steadily through the series, evidently having mastered the use of Netflix throughout the course of the cold snap. Ronan joins her for an episode or two, and Adam follows, so the three of them curl up to watch the lush jungles on the screen, a sharp contrast to the deep freeze outside. Opal’s hand is small and warm in Adam’s.

On Sunday night, Ronan brings his laptop to the room where Adam works in front of the fireplace and fiddles with a speaker. Adam looks up from his spot on the sofa.

“What’s that?”

“Just trust me.” Ronan smirks. This does not reassure Adam. 

A second later, music oozes out of the speaker - not the usual dissonant electronic mess Ronan favors, but smoother, layered and harmonious, melodies blending together instead of crashing head-on.

Adam grins at Ronan. “I like it.”

Ronan’s smile is a curious thing, almost shy, and soft in the glow of the fire. “There’s a playlist of this stuff for the whole ride back. Even if you take the back roads.”

Adam’s chest feels fit to burst. “Thank you.”

Even in the low light, Adam can see Ronan blush. He closes his books and drops them to the ground with a thunk, extending a hand and pulling him down and closer. Ronan pretends to stumble onto the sofa so that he crash lands on top of Adam with a noise like “oof”, which makes him laugh.

Adam’s eyes are starting to tire and he should really study more and he’s not ready to leave so soon, but then Ronan’s hooking a leg in between his, pressing them wholly together, and he sighs out the tension he didn’t know he was holding.

Adam rests his cheek on the top of Ronan’s head. He can’t feel the cold at all.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this entirely at work l o l


End file.
